


The Interminable Journey

by randi2204



Series: Honeymoon Trail [14]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 13:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JD just wants things to be as simple as they had seemed.  More than that, though, he just wants to <i>know</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interminable Journey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoJo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/gifts).



> Disclaimer: These cowboys all belong to MGM, Mirisch and Trilogy, not me. I’m just having fun.

Riding in the wagon with Josiah was just about as slow as death.  JD fidgeted, turned around to look longingly at their horses, tied to the rear of the wagon, plodding along faithfully.  _Be so much faster if we could just_ ride, he thought a little resentfully.  _They need us_ there _with them, not draggin’ our tails._ Almost as soon as he had the thought, he started guiltily and touched Chris’s letter where he’d tucked it into the pocket of his coat.  Chris had said bring Vin’s wagon, so they were.

 

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

 

“You can ride if you want to, son,” Josiah said.  He held the reins for the team with an easy certainty, but his tone was sharp.

 

_He’s worried, too,_ JD reminded himself and sighed.  “No, I don’t.  I mean, yeah, I do, but…” He gestured aimlessly and slouched back on the seat.

 

Josiah just nodded like he understood what JD couldn’t say.  Which was good, JD supposed, but how could Josiah know when JD hadn’t even figured it out his own self?

 

“I mean, I guess I know why Chris wanted us to bring the wagon, so we can get Ezra out of town and safe, but what if he expected us to be there sooner than this?”

 

“I reckon Chris knows how fast a wagon can go,” Josiah replied, sounding more normal this time.  Hell, he even sounded amused.

 

JD huffed and crossed his arms, trying not to think of all the things that could be going wrong while they were stuck in transit.  He stared out at the desert without seeing it, listening to the creaking and groaning of the wood beneath him.  The wagon lurched as it hit a divot in this trail that could hardly be called a road, and JD grabbed onto the side of the seat to keep his balance.

 

_Never gettin’ on a wagon again,_ he vowed.  Except, of course, he knew he would if it was necessary to get Ezra away as Chris had asked.

 

JD wondered again just what could have happened that not only did Ezra get shot but Chris was put in jail.  Not that he knew what Ezra’s plan had been about; that’s why Chris’s promise to tell him meant as much as it did.  _Vin and Buck didn’t want to tell me,_ he thought and he knew he sounded like a spoilt child but he didn’t much care.

 

_Doesn’t matter,_ JD decided, watching the desert crawl by.  _We’ll get there soon, and we’ll get Chris out of jail and he and Ezra will tell me what happened.  Then we’ll make sure Miz Gaines gets what’s comin’ to her and that’ll be that._

 

The problem was that they still had to _get_ there.

 

What if they were too late?  What if the others needed them there and they were still plodding along with the wagon?

 

_It ain’t fair,_ JD thought, _it ain’t fair,_ over and over, until his thoughts fell in time with the turn of the wheels and lulled him to sleep.

 

He woke when the wagon lurched to a stop, Josiah’s low “whoa” his only clue what was happening.  The wagon shuddered back and forth until the team of horses stood still at last, and Josiah set the brake and climbed down.  “Reckon we’ll stop here for tonight, JD,” he said, and moved to unhitch the team.

 

Some hours later, JD found himself staring at the fire and trying to keep himself awake enough to stand the watch, while Josiah slept peacefully across from him.  _I don’t understand how I could have slept all afternoon and_ still _be tired,_ he thought, and threw a bit of twisted grass into the flames to see it snap and spark.

 

He pulled up another bit of grass; it curled between his fingers, dry and brittle, before shredding into pieces.  He sighed and tossed the remnants toward the fire.  _Guess Josiah’s right,_ he thought, staring across the blaze at his sleeping friend.  _We’ll get there when we get there.  Maybe tomorrow… I ain’t gonna be able to stand another day in that wagon._   With that, he stood and made his way over to the horses, checking them over by touch and firelight just to have something to do.

 

When it finally came, the morning was just like every other morning since he and Josiah had left town; JD a little jittery from too little sleep and too much coffee, Josiah moving slow as he stretched the knots out of his back and hitched up the team again.   They were on their way before the sun had fully cleared the horizon, JD shifting restlessly on the hard bench, drumming his fingers until Josiah shot him a glance full of irritation.

 

He only managed to be calm for a short while, though; before noon, he was nervy again, like them high-strung horses he’d tended when he was Mister Edwards’ stable boy.  But at least now he had a reason; he could see a town ahead, growing larger every moment, until they were on a real street, surrounded by buildings and people.

 

“When I replied to Vin’s wire, I told him to expect us today or tomorrow,” Josiah said, pulling up on the lines.  The wagon lurched to a halt.  “Reckon him or Buck might be on the lookout for us.”

 

JD sagged a little in relief.  He wasn’t afraid of asking for directions in a strange town, no sir, but it wasn’t wrong to want to have some of the others backing him up, especially where Miz Gaines was concerned.  Hell, she might have another gang like Jack Averal’s, just waiting to ambush them or something.  Instead of saying anything, he looked out over the street, searching for Buck’s lanky form or the familiar shape of Vin’s hat.

 

All of a sudden he found who he was looking for, and, grinning, he pointed, getting Josiah’s attention.  “There – it’s Vin.”

 

Josiah squinted in the direction he indicated, then smiled.  “Indeed it is.” He slapped the reins over the horses’ backs and got them moving again.  Vin had already spotted them and was heading their way.

 

When they met, Vin swung himself up onto the wagon’s seat, crowding into JD until he shifted over.  “Glad you’re here,” Vin said.

 

Josiah eyed him briefly, then returned his attention to driving.  “Things still as bad as that?”

 

Vin let out a breath.  “Ezra ain’t at death’s door anymore,” he said, quietly enough that JD barely heard him over the noise of the wagon and the sounds of people in the street.  “And Chris ain’t killed Ella Gaines yet, so I reckon things have improved a little.”

 

“Just not much,” Josiah replied.  “Hard to kill someone from the wrong side of the bars.”

 

Vin snorted but didn’t respond. Instead, he directed Josiah through the streets to the jail.  “There’s a livery not too far from the jail,” he said.  “Easy walk from there to the boardin’ house.”

 

“We ain’t gonna see Chris?” JD blurted out.

 

Vin shook his head slightly.  “She’s got the law here eatin’ out of her hand,” he replied.  “And she knows how many of us there are.  No sense givin’ her any more warning than we have to.”

 

“If Miz Gaines sees us,” Josiah said, “she’ll know we’re planning something.”

 

“Yeah, well, Buck seems to think it’s better if she underestimates us.  Might not come at us with everything when it comes time.”

 

“Comes time for what?” JD couldn’t help but ask.  He hated it when the others did this, talking about something like it was so obvious when it was really only obvious to them.

 

“When it comes time to kill Ezra,” Vin said, his words short and sharp.

 

JD reeled away, his back thumping against the back of the wagon’s seat.  “What?”

 

“She ain’t playin’ around anymore, JD.  She sent Buck a letter, barely a step away from threatenin’ to kill Ezra for… for that damned plan.”  Vin shook his head.  “Knew it was a stupid idea,” he muttered.

 

The plan; it always came back to that.  Chris had written back to him and said that he – and Ezra – would tell him what the plan had been about, why Buck and Vin had been so dead against it.  _But,_ JD thought resentfully, _bet you anything even now that it’s all gone to hell, no one’ll say a word, even if I ask._   He opened his mouth, just to test it, but Vin said, “Over there, Josiah,” reaching across JD to point out the livery, and the next few minutes were spent getting the horses and wagon squared away.

 

The boarding house was only a short walk from the livery.  Buck was waiting for them in the sitting room, one shoulder against the wall near the window, pushing the curtain aside the smallest amount so he could peer out into the street.

 

“Good to see you boys,” Buck greeted, but the smile he offered them seemed tired.  Hell, _all_ of him seemed tired, more worn than JD had ever seen him, even when Chris had been shot at Miz Gaines’s ranch.

 

It made JD worry – _well,_ he thought, _worry_ more – about just how bad things were here.  _Vin said Ezra’s recoverin’, but…_   “Buck, you look awful.”

 

Buck shot him a quick glare, but it lacked force, and the lack of a retort underscored his exhaustion.  Vin gave a rusty chuckle and claimed a spot on the settee.  “Kid’s not wrong, Buck,” he said when Buck scowled at him as well.

 

JD opened his mouth to take exception to being called a kid, then thought better of it.  He stood near Buck, hands on his guns, his fingers tapping the butts restlessly.

 

“Where’s Nathan?” Josiah asked, settling carefully into a delicate-looking chair that creaked under his weight.

 

“He’ll be down in a little bit,” Vin replied.  “He’s probably still tryin’ to get Ezra to drink some broth.”

 

The silence that followed Vin’s words wasn’t the same comfortable kind of silence JD was used to around his friends.  It seemed like it was full of things no one was saying.

 

It was only a short while before Nathan joined them in the sitting room and all but collapsed onto the settee next to Vin.  _He looks tired, too,_ JD thought, and glanced covertly around at his friends, a little surprised to see how their shoulders drooped, the lines in their faces, dark smudges under their eyes – even Josiah had some starting, and JD had heard him snoring each night.

 

He’d been thinking that this would be easy; get Chris out of jail, put him and Ezra in the wagon and haul them back to town.  The more he looked at the others, though, he started to think that the only easy thing about this was just getting the wagon here; everything else was going to be _hard_.

 

“I told Miz Murphy to expect you two,” Buck said.  “Between us and her regular boarders, she’s only got one room open… Just ‘cause we don’t see ‘em doesn’t mean she ain’t got anyone else stayin’ here.”

 

JD discovered he was waiting for Ezra to make some kind of back-handed comment about a quality establishment, or for Chris to rib Buck about scaring everyone off with his ugly mug.  He thought the others might be expecting the same thing, because Buck glanced over his shoulder at the rest of them, and the lines dug themselves deeper into his face.

 

It felt strange, there being only five of them.  _Gotten used to all of us bein’ around,_ JD thought.  But now, they all just _looked_ at each other, like each of them was waiting for someone else to say something, to lay out the plan they’d thought up.

 

Like Chris and his plan to flush out Fowler.  Like Ezra and his idea to get information from that deputy in Jericho.

 

“And Ezra? What’s he think?” JD asked.  “He got any ideas on how to get Chris out?”

 

Nathan and Buck and Vin all went still at that, and none of them would look at anyone else.  Something in the air made the hair stand up on the back of JD’s neck, made him twitchy like he hadn’t been since that Achilles tried to rob the coach.

 

Just about the time the silence had become unbearable, Vin spoke up.  “We ain’t told him.”

 

Nathan scowled at the words and looked away.  Buck just continued to stare at the street through the sliver of open curtain, calm as you please.

 

JD stared at the three of them, mouth gaping open.

 

Vin met his astonishment calmly.  “What good would it’a done?” he asked softly.  “He can barely swallow broth.  He can’t get up, can’t walk, damn sure can’t fight.  Hell, we give him a gun, he’s as like to shoot his own fool self as anyone else.”

 

“Y’all don’t know,” Nathan said, rolling over what Vin might have said next.  His voice wasn’t quite the steady tone JD was used to, muffled as he scrubbed his face with his hands.  “Y’all don’t _know_ how close to dyin’ he was.  Only thing kept him breathin’ was Chris.  He practically threatened Ezra to live.”  He shook his head and slumped down against the back of the settee.  “Damn surprised he’s still alive.”

 

JD swallowed, felt himself going pale.  _Ezra could have_ died _,_ he thought.  _Could have been gone before we even_ got _here.  Knew he’d been shot, but I didn’t know it was_ that _bad…_ When Maddie’d shot _him_ , he’d felt like he’d been dying, and afterwards Nathan had told him he’d been lucky she hadn’t gotten him square or they’d be having his funeral and no mistake.

 

_Maybe they were right not to tell Ezra that Chris was in jail,_ he thought, chewing on his bottom lip.  _I mean, if he almost_ died…

 

_I thought when Vin said he wasn’t at_ death’s door _, he meant Ezra wasn’t takin’ on the way he does…_   The very idea made him a little ashamed.

 

“He’s probably wonderin’ where Chris is,” Buck said without looking away from the window.

 

It was only because he was looking that JD saw Vin’s mouth go tight.

 

“You wanna set him back,” Nathan said, words sharp and angry, “you go right ahead and tell him where Chris is. He ain’t strong enough yet…”

 

Suddenly JD realized that this wasn’t a new argument, that the three of them had probably been discussing whether or not to tell Ezra anything from the moment the sheriff had taken Chris to jail.

 

“Can’t be worse than him maybe thinkin’ Chris is dead,” Buck replied.  He glanced away from the window just long enough to shoot Nathan a look.  “Or worse, that Ella’s got her claws into him.”

 

Nathan opened his mouth to bite something back, but Josiah beat him to the punch.  “Seems to me he’s got a right to know,” he said, with that frown he got Sunday mornings when the church was near empty.  “No matter how close death came to him, this is somethin’ Ezra should know.”

 

Nathan shook his head, glaring unhappily at the rest of them.  “And what if he ain’t strong enough? What if he does himself more harm tryin’ to help?  I don’t want to risk it, Josiah.”

 

“Nathan,” Josiah said, and his tone clearly said he was striving for reasonable. He leaned forward, making the chair creak in a way that couldn’t help but alarm JD.  “Wouldn’t it be worse to keep it from him, if Chris was really what kept Ezra alive?  If he believes Chris is dead… what will keep him alive then?”

 

When he was able to tear his attention away from Josiah, who was settling back into his chair, JD saw that Nathan’s expression had turned even unhappier.  “I thought of that,” he said, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “And even with—” He cut himself off quick, shot a sharp glance toward Buck, as if he expected Buck to say something.

 

But Buck didn’t say anything, just kept looking out the window, searching for Miz Gaines.  JD flicked his gaze back and forth between his friends, trying to figure out what the hell they were all talking around.  _This ain’t like them at all,_ he thought, and opened his mouth to ask.

 

“Even with what, brother?” Josiah’s frown was puzzled now, brows furrowed deeply.  “Clearly it’s something that’s troubling you.”  He must have seen something that JD didn’t, though, because then he said, “Ah,” and nothing else.

 

But before JD could even get his head around the question he wanted to ask – _what the hell does_ “ah” _mean?_ – Buck said, “Why don’t you two go freshen up a bit from the road?  Miz Murphy don’t tolerate no dirt at her table.”

 

“That’s a fine idea,” Josiah answered, and levered himself up from the chair.  “Which room are we sharing?”

 

Vin led them to one of the rooms at the top of the stairs.  When JD opened the door, it banged against a heavy trunk.  “Hey, this room’s got somebody in it already!”

 

“Naw, that’s Ezra’s,” Vin said, peering around Josiah.  “They hauled it along so as to make things more believable.”  Then he slipped away back downstairs.

 

JD couldn’t help fiddling with the trunk’s lock while Josiah washed up in the basin.  When he was done, he turned around, drying his hands and wearing his most forbidding look.  “Son, would you want anyone goin’ through your things while you were laid up?”

 

He sighed and left off.  “Guess not.”  Instead he took his own turn to wash and change into a clean shirt, even if not much could be done for the state of his trousers.  Josiah brushed most of the dirt off his coat before putting it back on and returning downstairs; the room wasn’t big enough for much else, with the trunk taking up space.

 

He’d only just left the room when Nathan closed the door of the room at the head of the stairs.  “JD, you mind sittin’ with Ezra a few minutes?  I wanna get some more broth into him, but I’m itchy about leavin’ him alone again.”

 

JD swallowed; he couldn’t think of a sickroom without thinking of his mother.  But it wasn’t often Nathan asked for his help.  “Yeah, sure.”

 

Nathan eyed him, then opened the door again.  “Won’t take but a few minutes to heat up the broth.  Miz Murphy’ll save a plate for ya.  Just sit down.  He’s sleepin’ now, but if he starts havin’ any trouble, you yell loud as you can.”

 

The feel of the sickroom hit him the moment he stepped over the threshold; too warm, too close, filled with the sharp smell of Nathan’s medicines, but even more than that, the stench of sweat, a fevered body and a wound gone bad.  Then he saw Ezra lying still and pale, and for a moment, JD thought he was dead.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Nathan assured him.

 

JD swallowed again as Nathan closed the door.  Ezra looked rough – real rough.  _Never seen Ezra with that much…_ scruff _on his face,_ he thought, and straightaway was ashamed for having thought it. It was just… easier to focus on that than on the rest of it.

 

But the truth was, Ezra really did seem to be at death’s door, no matter what Vin had said.  He breathed like it was just about all he could do to drag the air in and push it out again.  The dark circles under his eyes showed up even more starkly against his pale skin, and that skin looked so thin that JD was afraid to touch Ezra’s hand because he might break him.

 

He sat down in one of the chairs that was dragged close to the bed, and fiddled with his hat.  “Hey Ezra,” he said, and winced at how strange he sounded.  “Me and Josiah finally got here… Jeez.  Never realized how slow it is to drive a wagon before!  But I guess that’s ‘cause I was always ridin’ a horse before and didn’t have to stay _in_ the wagon.  Josiah thought we should bring some clothes for you, but I guess you ain’t gonna need ‘em for some time yet, are you?”  He swallowed again.  “Jeez, Ezra, I’m sorry, I just…” He sighed.  “I’ve never been real good at tryin’ to talk to someone who can’t talk back.”

 

Ezra made no sign that he’d heard; indeed, there was no sign he was even awake.

 

But at least he had to sit in Ezra’s uncharacteristic silence for only a few minutes before the others trooped in.  He gave up his seat to Nathan as soon as he saw the bowl of soup the man carried, grateful to have the excuse to get away.  It was just… unnerving.

 

Even after he’d moved, though, he still didn’t know what to do with himself.  Buck was antsy, like he felt if he didn’t keep watch Ella would swoop in and kill them all, so he kind of wanted to go with him when he left.  At the same time, though, Josiah was eying him and giving him a very disapproving look, so he didn’t really want to _go_ , either.

 

Vin didn’t stay; JD thought maybe he was going to the jail to talk to Chris, or maybe find Miz Gaines, make sure she didn’t run crazy and try to kill them all again.  With the rest of them there – even Nathan was wearing his gun now – they’d be enough to protect Ezra.  Keeping that in mind, he took a step or two toward the nearest window, twitched the curtain aside just enough to peek out, the same way Buck had done downstairs.

 

He was only half-listening to the others, more focused on trying to pick out Miz Gaines if she was down in the street, so the sudden noise took him by surprise, and he fumbled with his guns, hands tightening on the grips before recognizing what it was.

 

It was _Ezra_.  That awful rasping, croaking sound was Ezra trying to say something.  JD swallowed heavily, remembering how _easy_ all those honeyed words had just slipped off Ezra’s tongue in the past… the effort he had to put forth now for the merest whisper was just damn near unbearable.

 

“Say it,” Ezra managed.  He looked even worse than he had just moments ago, every bit of color drained from his face except the feverish green glint of his eyes.

 

Nathan took a breath, steeling himself.  He was going to tell Ezra what had happened to Chris, JD realized, tell Ezra why Chris wasn’t where… well, where he really ought to be.  But now, having seen just how bad off Ezra was, JD thought maybe it could keep another day.  “Oh now,” he said, trying to derail Nathan.  “I don’t know…”

 

Josiah shot him a forbidding look from across the room and drew his hand sharply across his throat.  JD snapped his mouth shut and glared back.

 

Nathan glanced over his shoulder at Josiah, face contorted like he needed reassurance or something, which struck JD as strange; once Nathan had decided on a course, JD knew he would see it through to the end.

 

“We can’t not,” Josiah said in response to that look, the words quiet and compelling, and Nathan’s expression firmed.

 

“Please…” Ezra choked out, and Lord, he was trying to move, lifting his hand like he was trying to grab Nathan’s sleeve.

 

And it just made JD _ache_ to see his friend like this, bed-bound, barely able to move, to _breathe_.  He looked like he was waiting for the death-blow, somehow, like Nathan was going to tell him that he was dyin’ and there was nothing anyone could do...

 

Whatever Nathan told Ezra was bad; Ezra started thrashing about on the bed, his bleary gaze intent on the door.  _Oh my God,_ JD thought, taking a step toward the bed, _he’s tryin’ to get up!_   He didn’t know what he could do to help, because Nathan and Josiah were crowded around Ezra trying to get him settled again.  _But I can’t just… I gotta do_ something! he thought, biting his lip.

 

Then Nathan kind of quietly panicked, because Ezra stopped trying to move, and just sank down into his pillows nigh insensible.  His eyes were open, but he didn’t respond to anything Nathan or Josiah said.

 

“Reckon he just tired himself plumb out,” Nathan offered at last, but he still put a cool damp cloth on Ezra’s brow, and JD figured he wasn’t any too sure that was all it was.

 

“JD,” Josiah said quietly, and JD twitched at his name, pulled his attention from Ezra to Josiah, and watched Josiah’s face soften a little.  “He’ll be all right, son.”

 

He nodded, because he wanted to believe Josiah.  But at the same time, everything felt unsteady as he returned to the window to take up his watch again. 

 

It was some minutes before he heard Josiah speak once more, and it was clear he was speaking to Ezra.  JD had to blink to clear his eyes a little; staring out the window so long was making them burn.  But he relaxed, just a little, knowing at least Ezra was aware again.

 

There was some discussion behind him; Nathan was bound and determined to get Ezra to drink some of that soup, while Ezra was just as determined to tell him something, something about Miz Gaines and just who had shot her.

 

It wasn’t too long before Vin and Buck returned, but JD didn’t move away from what he’d started to think of as his post, even as they discussed whether or not it was possible that _Ezra_ had been the one to shoot Miz Gaines.  _Hell_ , he thought, _even_ Miz Gaines _thinks it was Chris that shot her.  And what kind of crazy is she that she_ still _thinks she and Chris will be together?_   He shivered at the thought.  _Maybe Maddie was that kind of crazy, too…_

 

None of them could argue with what Ezra had said, though; find the bullet and everyone would know the truth of the matter.  If it was from Ezra’s derringer or from Chris’s Colt, it’d be clear.

 

After the rest of them got done with their half-whispered argument, Buck came over and clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “Doin’ a good job, JD,” he said.  But when JD looked up at him, he seemed even more tired than he had earlier, and all his pleasure in Buck’s warm praise melted away.

 

He forced a smile despite that. “Thanks.  I can keep watchin’ for a while if you want to get some sleep.”

 

Buck smiled back – a real one that reached his eyes.  “You sayin’ I look like I need to rest?”

 

“Hey, if the shoe fits…” he shot back with a grin.

 

Buck chuckled and patted his shoulder, and for a short moment, everything was as it should be.  “That smart mouth is gonna get you in trouble someday,” he warned, mustache lifted in his own grin.  Slowly, though, it disappeared, and that careworn look returned.  “I guess I am a little tired,” he admitted, as reluctant as a skittish yearling.  “You wake me up when you need to, son.”

 

JD nodded, his heart too full to speak, and Buck left, closing the door softly after himself.  It was a long moment before he returned to his post, and then only because Ezra’s raspy breathing reminded him why he was here.

 

For a long while, he stared out the window of Ezra’s sickroom, down toward the street.  He tapped at the butts of his pistols, first one then the other, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, just like Buck had told him.  The shadows grew long as the sun dipped westward.  _Might need to go downstairs, take up Buck’s spot in the parlor once it gets dark._   Buck would probably be awake by then anyway, and it’d be JD’s turn to sleep.

 

He’d just about gotten used to the awful wheezing noise Ezra made breathing when it changed, and not in a good way.  He turned around at the first choking, rattling sound, hands tightening on his guns, thinking perhaps Ezra was in danger.

 

But Nathan leant over Ezra, protecting him from whatever it was, so JD relaxed some.

 

“Easy, Ezra,” Nathan murmured.  “Know it hurts like hell, but it’s just a cough.”  He carefully pulled Ezra upright and slid in behind him to prop him up.  “This any better?”

 

The rattling noise went on, interspersed with shallow gasps for air, then tapered off.  It was a good thing, too, JD thought, shaken, because Ezra just sagged back into Nathan, limp and exhausted, his breathing sounding even raspier than it had moments ago.

 

Nathan stretched a long arm to the table by the bed.  “Here, drink some of this.”

 

Ezra scrunched up his nose and tried to turn his face away, but he was still beyond words, because he didn’t say anything.

 

“Now, none of that,” Nathan scolded.  “It’ll soothe your throat some.  Got some honey in it.”  He got a couple of very reluctant swallows into Ezra before Ezra closed his eyes.  Nathan sighed and slipped out from behind him, laid him gently back onto the pillows.

 

That’s when JD saw something red on the white linen, bright red spatters that glistened in the lantern light.  It took a moment before he realized what it was, what it _had_ to be.  “He’s bleedin’, Nathan!”

 

Even as he smoothed the quilts over Ezra’s still form, Nathan shook his head.  “No, he ain’t, JD, he’s coughin’ up blood.  Been doin’ it for some while, off an’ on.” Then he glanced over at JD and frowned at whatever he saw.  “I been expectin’ it – doctor said if he made it this far, it’d happen.  Somethin’ goes through a lung, man’s gotta cough up the blood from inside.  If he don’t get it up, it’ll make him even sicker, and I reckon he don’t need that.”

 

“No,” JD said faintly, “I guess he don’t.”  It took everything he had to turn around to the window and take up his sentry duty again.  For a second, it had felt like Ezra was closer to death than ever, even though everyone said he was on the mend.

 

Full dark had fallen when there was a tap on the door, just loud enough to be heard, not loud enough to wake Ezra from his wheezing doze.  Nathan opened it and Buck stuck his head in, gestured for JD to come out.

 

“You look about done in,” Buck said when JD closed the door behind him.

 

JD just nodded.  Buck looked better than he had those hours ago when he’d gone off to sleep; a bit more alert, eyes brighter, just… more like _Buck_.

 

Then Buck reached out, put a hand on his shoulder, and boy, he felt just like someone’d given him a hundred dollars.  “You’re doin’ good, JD,” Buck said quietly, but with a smile.  “I know you want to see Chris, but what you were doin’ today… that’s just as important.”

 

JD nodded again, frowning thoughtfully.  He wanted to get Ezra safe, but… how could they do that if he was coughing up blood? If he was still so awful sick that he couldn’t even sit up?  How on earth could they get him away from Miz Gaines in a _wagon_?

 

“Everything all right, son?”

 

He wanted to nod, to tell Buck that he was fine, just tired, but he couldn’t find the strength to tell Buck that kind of lie.  “No, I guess it ain’t all right,” he said before he could stop himself.  “Chris is in jail and Ezra looks like he’s still gonna _die_ , and we’re fightin’ each other and keepin’ secrets…” He’d _meant_ keeping things from Ezra, but damnit, they were keeping things from _him_ too, and not just that damned Plan.  There was something else going on here, JD knew, and he was going to figure it out if it _killed_ him.

 

Buck smiled at him, that same sad smile that he’d worn when JD had decided to leave town.  “Maybe,” he said.  “But if it’s someone else’s secret, it ain’t ours to tell.”

 

JD lifted a hand, about to wave it all away and head off to bed and Josiah’s snores, when what Buck had said registered.  “So there _is_ a secret?” he demanded, scowling, and poked Buck hard.  “If it’s such a damn secret, how come _you_ all know it?”

 

Buck eased a step back, lifting both his hands as if to ward JD off.  “I never said there _was_ ,” he replied, wearing his best _don’t blame me_ grin.  “I just said _maybe._ ”

 

This time, JD did brush it all aside, rolling his eyes and turning away from Buck.  “Nice to know how much you all trust me,” he tossed over his shoulder, his tone filled with as much anger and hurt as he could muster.

 

Behind him, he heard Buck sigh.  “Ain’t like that, JD,” he called softly.  “But it’s… it’s more something you gotta _see_.”  When JD just opened the door to the room he and Josiah were sharing, Buck sighed again.  “See you in the morning, JD.”

 

JD’s shoulders hunched; he hated making Buck sound like that, like he’d just lost his last friend in the world.  “Good night, Buck,” he replied, and heard Buck’s boots pause on the stairs.

 

Josiah wasn’t in the room, so JD hurried himself into bed, the better to take advantage of time without the preacher’s mighty snore.  But the words he and Buck had exchanged wouldn’t let him sleep; they just kept running over and over in his head.  Buck normally wouldn’t shut up whenever JD asked him something (and sometimes even when he didn’t), but this time… hell, it wasn’t like Buck at all to not say a damn thing when he knew the answer.

 

_When I finally find out what that damned Plan was all about,_ JD thought, glaring at the ceiling,  _I’m gonna have a damned_ parade _right down the main street._

 

The next thing he knew, sunlight was glowing through the curtains and Josiah was making a face in the mirror as he shaved.  “Mornin’, JD,” he rumbled.

 

“Mornin’,” JD replied.  The smells of coffee and fresh bacon made his nose twitch eagerly, and he could barely contain himself enough to wait for Josiah to finish.

 

After Mrs. Murphy’s substantial breakfast, Nathan said he was going to visit Chris, and JD volunteered to go with him.  _The whole point of this_ , he thought as they walked toward the jail, _isn’t just to get Ezra safe, but Chris, too_.  So it made sense to take a look at the jail, see what kind of cell Chris was in, just in case they needed to bust him out before they high-tailed it out of town.  He hung back as Nathan mounted the steps, trying to study the building as Vin or Buck would.

 

Nathan noticed what he was doing and shot him a glare from the doorway.  “JD, get on over here.”

 

Reluctantly, he followed Nathan inside.

 

The sheriff – an older fellow not much taller than JD himself – stood from behind his desk, wearing an expression of deep disapproval.  “You another one of his friends?” he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the only occupied cell.

 

JD lifted his chin and tucked his thumbs through his gun belt.  “Yes sir, I am,” he replied.

 

Muttering under his breath, the man sat down again and picked up his pen.  “You don’t impress me, kid,” he said, pointing at JD with the end of the pen.

 

“Be all right if we talked to your prisoner, Sheriff?” Nathan asked, every word polite, but JD could see his friend was angry from the way his hands clenched and relaxed.

 

Without another word, the sheriff waved them toward the cells.  There were four, two each facing each other with a walkway between them; Chris was in one of the ones closest to the front of the jail.  A hard wooden chair sat next to the bars of his cell, probably from when Buck had come to see him yesterday. 

 

Chris looked haggard, like it was the morning after he’d drunk a little too much whisky; there were lines in his face and dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze was clear, and he seemed relieved JD was there.  “Buck said you made it,” he said.  “Glad to see you.”

 

JD nodded, pleased, even though he’d hated the whole dang trip.  “Sorry it took so long,” he offered.

 

Chris shook his head.  “That don’t matter,” he said.  “Just that you’re here.”  He nodded in greeting at Nathan.

 

“Chris,” Nathan said.  He took a breath like he was going to say something more, then just let it out.

 

Chris straightened.  “What?” he demanded.  “What’s happened?”

 

“Ezra was awake yesterday,” JD offered, but fell silent at the slashing motion of Nathan’s hand.

 

Nathan checked over his shoulder, but the sheriff was working busily at his desk, or at least pretending to.  “Chris,” he said, his voice low enough to be lost in the sounds drifting in from the street, “Ezra… he says it was him.”

 

Chris turned very pale, and JD put up a hand, as if he could reach through the bars and keep him from falling over.  Then Chris’s lips thinned and his eyes got that look that still scared JD sometimes.  “You keep him quiet, Nathan,” he growled through gritted teeth.  “Don’t let that damned fool breathe a word of that to _anyone_.”

 

He knew.  Just for a moment, JD felt like the sun had risen up over the mountains and was shining full on him.  Chris _knew_ that Ezra thought he’d been the one to injure Miz Gaines, and that’s why he was in jail now; he was taking Ezra’s place.

 

_But why?_ he asked himself.

 

Nathan sighed.  “Yeah, all right.  I’ll try.  You know how he do take on, though.”

 

“You know what’ll happen if anyone gets wind of that?”  Chris hissed, his tone furious. “Ella will have him in this cell instead of me.  You think he’d last a _day_ in here?”

 

“Already said I’d do it, Chris,” Nathan shot back, and the lack of sleep and all the worry over Ezra – and probably Chris, too, JD thought – showed through; he sounded almost angry.

 

Chris took a breath, as if he were trying to calm down.  “Yeah, I know,” he offered.  He, too, glanced at the sheriff.  “Probably be for the best all around if you just took him the hell home.”

 

Nathan looked solemn.  “I dunno, Chris.  I don’t want him here, either, but I don’t know he’d stand the trip home.”

 

Chris turned away from them, one hand fisting around a bar, and JD thought he saw his back and arm tense, the muscles going taut.  “I don’t see another way to keep him away from Ella,” he said, and though the words were probably meant to sound sharp, his tone made them sound… weary, like he’d exhausted himself thinking about this over and over again.  “And she’s after him, no mistake.”

 

“Yeah, saw that letter.” Nathan let out a slow breath.  “He’s doin’ better, yeah, but it ain’t much of a difference to be doin’ better than _dyin’_.”

 

Chris swallowed heavily at that, kept his face turned away from them.

 

“He’s startin’ to cough,” Nathan said.  “Bringin’ up blood.  No,” he hastened to add when Chris whipped around to stare at him, face going white again, “no, Chris, it’s a good thing.  He’s gotta get that out before he can really get to healin’.” But then Nathan got that unhappy look JD had rarely seen him without in just the short time since he’d arrived.  “Takes a lot out of him, though – mighty painful.  Still sleepin’ a lot, and he ain’t gonna get a lot of good rest travelin’ in a wagon.”

 

The sigh Chris let out seemed like it came up from his feet.  “What a fuckin’ choice.”

 

JD agreed silently – it was a hell of a thing to have to decide.  If they took Ezra home, it might set him back, might even be enough to kill him.  If they stayed here, Miz Gaines was sure to try to kill him her own self. 

 

“Who’s there now?” Chris asked, and it followed so quickly on the heels of his own thought that JD started to wonder if Chris had read his mind.

 

“Buck,” Nathan replied.  “Don’t worry, JD here spelled him, let him get some sleep.”  He clapped JD on the shoulder, and JD couldn’t help it, he stood up straighter, maybe puffed out his chest a little.

 

Chris nodded approvingly.  “Good.  Make sure he gets some sleep today, too.  Buck sometimes don’t take care of his own self.” _When someone else needs him_ wasn’t said, but JD heard it loud and clear.

 

“I best get back, make sure Ezra’s restin’,” Nathan said suddenly, and patted JD’s shoulder.  “You keep Chris company for a bit.” He nodded at Chris, received a nod in return and passed by the sheriff’s desk with a curt “Sheriff” as he left.

 

Chris gestured toward the rickety chair just outside his cell.  He sat down on his bunk as JD perched hesitantly on the chair.  Before JD could even figure out how he was supposed to _keep Chris company_ , Chris said, “Jesus Christ, what a fuckin’ mess.”

 

“Yep,” JD said, as heart-felt as he could manage.  Because he just couldn’t disagree with that; this whole situation was about the worst kind of mess he’d ever seen, much less been involved with.  He tilted the chair back, balancing it on two legs, like he did with the chair in the jail.

 

Chris glowered at the bars between them.  “JD,” he said low, and JD let the chair come down to all fours again, slow and easy so the sheriff wouldn’t notice.  “Someone’s gotta find that bullet.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” he replied in the same tone, then bit his lip.  “I don’t know what they’re plannin’, though,” he admitted.  “They might have come up with somethin’ while I was asleep, but nobody told me.”

 

Chris scrubbed a hand over his face; it left him looking even older and more haggard.  “Goddamnit, Ezra,” he muttered, “wish I’d never listened to your plan.”

 

JD blinked.  _Should’ve realized it was_ Ezra’s _plan,_ he thought, and that tiny piece of information sparked all his curiosity for the Plan all over again.  _Maybe… maybe Chris will tell me what it_ was _now…_

 

But before he could open his mouth to ask even one question, Chris pointed at him almost like he was going to stab him with his finger.  “When you get Ezra out of here,” he ordered, “you make sure you either take that trunk from the boardin’ house or put it someplace safe and come back for it.  It’s Ezra’s… stuff.”

 

“Stuff,” JD repeated, and he knew his dubious tone had angered Chris when his frown deepened.  He held out a hand.  “We’d move faster without it, and anyway, it ain’t like Ezra can’t buy more shirts—”

 

Chris’s anger faded, replaced by something JD had rarely ever seen; he looked downright uncomfortable.  “It’s not shirts, it’s… his costume.”

 

“Costume?” JD repeated, and then his mind caught up with his mouth.  _A costume_ , he thought, and that word was like a brilliant spark lighting him all up from the inside.  Sometimes Buck had likened Ezra’s… well, what he wore every day to a costume, but that wasn’t what JD thought of as a costume.  _What he wore that day on the stage when we roughed up those fellers that would have hurt Billy, that was a costume, and so was_ …

 

“Like what he wore in Wickestown.”  JD couldn’t quite make it a question, because suddenly, the whole Plan was starting to make sense.

 

He didn’t notice Chris twitch at his words, didn’t see the warning glare Chris shot him through the bars; he was imagining Ezra in that purple dress, and a relieved kind of disbelief swept over him.  “ _That’s_ what you meant in your letter?” he asked, just remembering to keep his voice low so the sheriff wouldn’t hear.  “When you said that you and Ezra needed to explain, it was just ‘cause Ezra was wearing a _dress_?  Hell, Chris…”

 

Chris didn’t move, but his face seemed to go very still, like it were carved from stone, and JD knew that he’d hit close to the mark.  “No, JD, it isn’t,” Chris replied.  “Not exactly, anyway.  Whatever you’re thinkin’, there’s… well, there’s more to it than that.”

 

“You’re talkin’ around things just like Ezra does,” JD complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

For a moment, Chris looked surprised, like he hadn’t thought about it that way, but then the surprise disappeared and something awful took its place, not awful-angry, but… awful- _sad_.

 

JD blinked at the sight, wondering _why_.  He opened his mouth to ask, but no words came out, and he forced it closed again before Chris could notice.  “Sorry,” he muttered at last, because he really hadn’t meant to… well, do whatever it was he’d done with his words.

 

Chris nodded silently, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere – on the mystery of the bullet, Ezra’s claim that he’d shot Miz Gaines, on how he was going to get out of this damn jail… what JD had worked out about the Plan.

 

Then JD realized no, that wasn’t it at all.  No, that terrible look on Chris’s face didn’t have _anything_ to do with what JD had guessed about the Plan or even how he was going to get out of the cell; it had everything to do with Ezra laid up in that boarding house room, and why Buck had insisted that he stay with Ezra while Nathan and the others left to go on their various errands.

 

It was because of Ezra… how Chris _felt_ for Ezra.  _And maybe,_ JD thought, remembering how distraught Ezra had gotten yesterday, _how Ezra feels for Chris…_

 

Was it because of the Plan?  Was it there _before_ the Plan?  Mind whirling with these strange new thoughts and all the upset the Plan had caused, JD could hardly recall how Chris and Ezra had gotten along – or hadn’t gotten along.  But it was there staring him in the face now; there was more than just friendship in how they were each so determined to protect the other, one from his jail cell, the other from his sickbed.

 

The sound of a teamster shouting drew JD’s attention to the jail’s windows and he stood up.  A stagecoach had pulled up just outside, the horses blowing and snorting.  One of the passengers inside swung the door open and stepped out.  It was an old fellow with a strong jaw and keen eyes, wearing a suit rumpled by travel.  JD recognized him immediately and felt such an overwhelming sense of relief that he almost slumped to the floor.

 

Judge Travis had arrived.

 

***

October 10, 2015

Revised January 10, 2016

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Mendax for her extremely helpful beta work! And also for helping me find a title, since the working title was "Honeymoon Trail part the next" until about 10 minutes before it was posted. :)


End file.
